Come with me
bring your dog
your warm sweater
your bare feet
if you dare
bring your willingness
to sit still
to set sail
as life’s unfolding
takes your breath away.
As a kid in the 6th grade
in dry, land locked Oklahoma
I had to stand up in class and recite
John Masefield’s Sea Fever
it had little meaning for me but terror.
After more than fifty some years
I live within the sound of beckoning waves
so now the winds song and flying clouds
belong to me.
BY JOHN MASEFIELD
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
For Margo Rody Tuesday Tryouts Come with Me